Dolphins

More friends are leaving.

Waz’s exit of a few weeks ago was neutralised, if only fleetingly, by his unexpected return to the lunch group last Tuesday – his Japan start date was put back a week enabling him a brief return to the homeland and a chance to exchange some real life smiles. Not to mention another chance to beat him at Pitch and Putt. I have thought about giving him the blog address when he is away; he can be trusted.

To even further away.

Thoughts also echo from the first year after Uni. Everyone was working in jobs they hated wondering why their degrees seemed worthless. My two best friends at the time decided, for different reasons, to move to Hong Kong. It was tough. I’ve kept in touch, of course, but it’s not the same. I see them less often than the seasons. They’ve both married and had kids, our lives seem so different now, but I can’t talk to them to find out if it’s true.

A’s and Jen are emigrating to Tasmania. The final link in their chain to Australia is being forged as I type, but they will leave in September irrespective of their visas stating ‘Skilled Migration’ or ‘Tourist’. Their minds are made up, the legalities will follow. They said they want a change; they’re going to seek out their dream and try it on for size. I joke that they’ll be back but for now at least there is certainty in their eyes. They have come down to Plymouth to consolidate their Uni memories of the place, to tick things off their ‘To do’ list before they leave. We sit up on the Hoe and talk while my head gets an unhealthy dose of April UV. Then Jen sees the dolphins. A pod at least 50 strong, adults and young, are swimming through The Sound. I can’t quite believe my eyes. It’s a beautiful spectacle that gets missed by most of the land dwellers, they’re too busy to notice. Whatever their conversations include, it is not worth missing this moment. Their futures will be starved of this memory, their minds forever oblivious. Silently we gaze in amazement as the dolphins swim through in front of us, the occasional breach betraying their location; individuals seemingly moving faster than the group. They swim to the west, their dorsals soon smaller than flecks of the reflecting sun.

They are gone.

But not forgotten.

To my friends and the dolphins. Good luck.